Unfortunately, the more impressionable the girl, the more the world infringes on her malleable sense of self. “You look alot better without all the black shit on your eyes.” Self-styled princess Claire (Molly Ringwald) asserts, dragging an eyeliner pencil across Ally’s (Allison Reynolds) lower lashes. “Hey, Ilike that black shit,” she retorts.The Breakfast Clubembodies the more frustrating facets of the makeover, which can reduce people to mere puppets of gender. When Ally steps out of the bathrooms, the outline of her cooler, grungier self is barely discernible beneath the layers of powder and frills. Toula’s (Nia Vardalos) similar transformation inMy Big Fat Greek Weddingdoesn’t leave the same bitter taste in viewers’ mouths. Her decision to replace her shapeless jumpers with brightly coloured cardigans is spread over weeks, and the cosmetic retooling is paired with anewfound social confidence. Between tweezing and brushing we catch sight of Toula approaching strangers on her lunch break, eagerly raising her hand to answer questions in class – slowly unfurling from her protective crouch. Her newly made-over self is amore honest container for her outgoing self.
When Toula finally goes on her first date with Ian (John Corbett) she has to account for this radical change: “I was kind of going through aphase…up ‘til now…” Toula haltingly explains, “And, uh…I was frump girl.” Ian tilts his head encouragingly. “I don’t remember frump girl, but Iremember you,” he flirts. It’s anecessary exchange, earnest and sweet and upholding the radical potential of self-fashioning. This carefully constructed recognition is mirrored byRoman Holiday’s Joe and Anne and their post-haircut encounter: “Well, it’s you! Or is it?” He teases. It’s an innocuous exchange that covertly affirms Anne’s fundamental shift from damsel in distress to independent woman. Toula and Anne journey along vastly different routes to the same self-determinant place; they construct bridges between how they feel internally and how they want to appear outwardly. Such ahopeful framing contrasts with Ally’s makeover, which sees her succumbing to the world – reconstructing herself according to someone else’s blueprint.
Making yourself over can also engender empathy. In Mark Waters’ 2003 update ofFreaky Friday, rebellious teen Anna (Lindsay Lohan), now inhabiting the body of her type‑A mother Tess (Jamie Lee Curtis), utilises the advantages of grown-up finances to remodel her Mum. In one afternoon – condensed to asingle minute in the film – gone are the grey suits and sensible shoes, replaced with aform-fitting Diane von Furstenberg dress, stiletto boots, and an edgy pixie cut. “My hair! It’s gone!” Tess wails upon seeing her newly adorned body. “Mom, it’s cool,” Anna protests. This makeover is what the film hinges on, forcing mother and daughter to take awalk in each other’s shoes and come to aplace of understanding in order to switch their bodies back.
Just as Nigel has to explain that Runway magazine’s importance extends beyond its physical pages, standing as “a shining beacon of hope” for outcast artists everywhere, the makeover montage collects all the discarded girlish daydreams of making yourself anew, and gives them atangible form. When Ithink of the makeover montage, Ido think of brushed hair, shiny French manicures, brash prints and vibrant colours – but Ialso think of the younger versions of myself, unsure of her style and desperate to enter these magical makeover portals, who would watch these films. While intent and execution can massively alter the meaning of amovie makeover montage, at their best, these scenes are an affirmation that it’s okay to care about how you present yourself externally to the world – and to change it based on who you want to be on any givenday.
